


Passing through nature to eternity

by Lydia_E_Nheers



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Midnight Conversations, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-15 20:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18506569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lydia_E_Nheers/pseuds/Lydia_E_Nheers
Summary: Robbie is there for James immediately after tragedy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not brit-picked, and my first published Lewis fanfic! I hope you guys enjoy it!!!

It was 1:35 am when Lewis’ phone rang, waking him. Not that he had been sleeping. Not really, anyway. He had returned to Oxford from Australia three days earlier, and the jet lag was still firmly in place. It’s not as if Lewis needed any help in not sleeping. Sleep didn’t come easy as it once did. It had for a while, but now that he was sleeping alone again, a good night’s sleep was once again elusive.

They hadn’t been away long. Six months, maybe more was the plan, but it wasn’t even three months after their arrival when Laura had looked at him across yet another silent dinner table and asked the question that had been on his mind for the last month. “What are we doing?” She had asked, voice soft.

“I don’t know.” he said, meeting her gaze.

A week later, he was home. It was amicable really. Honestly. It was probably the healthiest breakup Robbie had ever experienced. She even drove him to the airport and kissed his cheek goodbye. He had smiled at her and told her to call him if she needed anything, and to let him know when she got back. It was a little awkward, but he knew that when she returned to England in three more months, and they had to work together again, it would be like it had been. He knew himself and her well enough to know that their friendship was solid, and would last.

The end had started gradually, since arriving in Australia. Conversation had slowed, sex had stopped, silence had built, but it had been uncomfortable, questioning. There was no affair. No tears. No real quarrel even. It had just been a slow dissolution of a relationship. In his heart of hearts, he knew it was only a matter of time. If questioned, he’d insist he had gone to Australia in love with her. But later; when Robbie had thought about it in hindsight, he had the keen sense that Laura had known, even then.

He had called James the moment he landed, and he had come round and helped him move his things back into his old flat. He had never given it up, and really, that should have been the first warning sign. James hadn’t said a word about it, for which Robbie was grateful. They had just fallen back into their regular bantering, easy conversational stride, as if Robbie hadn’t just been away three months.

James had apparently done well in that time. Had another murder collar under his belt, and a few robberies too. He was still tall, gawky and as painfully thin as he was when he left. God, Robbie had missed this awkward sod. Not that he’d ever admit it.

Now, his mobile was ringing. He sat up in bed and grabbed his mobile off the bedside table. “James?” he rasped, voice tinged with the edge of sleep.

“Robbie.” James breathed into the phone, his voice sounded tight and pained. “James. What’s going on? Is there a case on? Whatsit?” He hadn’t even gone back to work yet. He had told Moody he was back early, and he had been told in return that he’d be called in on the first case that came their way. Robbie scrubbed a hand over his face, tamping down the flame of worry that lit up in his stomach. James was a grown man, but he always found himself worrying for the lad.

“No. It’s nothing. Go. Go back to sleep. I’m sorry.” James’ replied in a quick succession of bursts. That flame of worry increased. It wasn’t a body turned up somewhere. James sounded all of five years old, despite his deep, cultured voice.

“James. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“My…my dad…” he cleared his throat. “My dad died.”

“Oh..” Lewis felt a deep pain punch through his sternum. He stood up and immediately started pulling clothes out of the drawer across the room. “Alright James. Alright. Where are you?”

“No. I..” Robbie could hear a shuffling noise. “I’m fine. I just…you knew him. I wanted to tell you.”

“Where are you, lad? Or do I need to get into the car and circle Oxford to find you meself?”

“I’m fine. Really. I’m sorry. I’ll see you at work.” And with that the line went dead.

With a curse, Robbie put the phone down on the bureau and began dressing quickly. It wasn’t cold. Actually, it was a pretty lovely night, And as Lewis left the house and got into the car, he had known instantly where James was. The man was a paradox. A mysterious bugger with a good deal of hidden depths. God knows he kept things hidden. But the man was surprisingly simple sometimes. When James hurts, James rows. And when James couldn’t row, James walked. He had walked to bloody _Spain_ after all.

He pulled up to the river’s edge and began following the direction of the current. James could be literally anywhere, but Lewis had a funny feeling he’d find him pretty quickly. So he walked until he found a small bench, with a small streetlamp behind it. And huddled on that bench, dressed in jogging bottoms and a t-shirt was James, cigarette smoke billowing from him and disappearing into the breeze. He sat down next to him.

“I told you not to come.” James said, voice tight as he took a deep drag.

“I know.” Robbie answered.

“How did you find me?”

“I’ve been a detective for the best part of thirty years, lad. Finding you was the easy bit.”

James didn’t reply in favour of taking another deep inhale on the cigarette. Lewis noticed his fingers were shaking ever so slightly.

“Been here all night?”

“No.” he answered too quickly. _Ah_.

“I’m sorry, James.” Lewis reached and put a comforting hand on James’ knee. He recoiled slightly and Lewis removed it.

“Thank you.” His voice was measured. Even.

“When did it happen?”

'Earlier this afternoon. He went in his sleep. Very peaceful, Nell informs me.” Another deep inhale on the cigarette. He tossed the end and immediately lit another. Lewis said nothing. He looked down at the ground illuminated by the gentle glow of the streetlamp, and saw it littered with the best part of a pack’s ends. James saw him see it, but neither of them said anything.

“Why don’t you come back to mine?” Lewis asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Why?”

“It’s getting cold. And I see you don’t have a jacket.”

He could see James’ face changing expressions, first; denial, then the weighing out the futility of refusing that gentle suggestion.

“Okay.”

“Good.” He silently waited for James to finish his cigarette and he stood before he could light another. “C’mon then.”

James stood on slightly unsteady feet, and they walked slowly back in the direction Lewis had come. Robbie couldn’t help but put a solid, comforting hand on James’ shoulder as they walked side by side, just slightly too close together. James accepted the physical affection this time and they walked in silence. Lewis knew by the ends scattered around James’ feet and by how cold the boy felt under his hand, through his thin t-shirt, that he had obviously been sitting there for hours. For hours he had sat, smoking himself into oblivion. Trying desperately to lose himself, while the tragedy sank in.

He opened the car door for him and closed it after getting him into the passenger’s side. He got into the driver’s side, started it and turned on the heat, subtly pointing the fan towards him. “I’m glad you called me.” He said quietly as they drove towards the flat that James had helped him set up only yesterday. The younger man didn’t say anything, but he did nod to show he had heard. He put his hands towards the nearest vent and faced forward, looking out the window, eyes a little glassy and unfocused.

Upon arriving, Robbie ushered him in, and gently pushed him into the sofa. “Sit. I’ll put the kettle on.” He went into the small kitchen and took two mugs from the cupboard and switched on the electric kettle. While the water boiled, he looked over at him. His eyes were closed, and his head was tilted back against the cushion, legs out in front of him, but his pose wasn’t relaxed. Robbie could clearly read the tension in his long body. The heartache evident on his brow. They said nothing. There were no platitudes that could be said. And clearly James was too exhausted and full of grief to make small talk. So Robbie handed him a steaming mug, and sat down next to him, and they sat in silence, James wrapping his long fingers around the cup, as if leeching the warmth from it.

“James?” He finally asked, breaking the stillness.

 “Mmm? Oh.” He sat up and blinked over at them, maybe finally realizing where he was. “Yes?”

“Why don’t we go to bed?”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” He put the undrunk tea on the table and stood. “I’ll be off then, and I’ll see you..”

“No. You daft man.” Lewis stood up and took James’ shoulder. “You sleep here tonight. I have a spare bedroom.”

“No, no.” He demurred. “I don’t have anything to change into tomorrow. And we have work.”

“Give me your keys. I’ll go and get something for you to wear. And if you think I’m going to let you anywhere near a crime scene for the next two weeks, you’re out of your mind.”

“You aren’t my boss anymore, Robbie.” For the first time, he detected a real emotion in James’ voice. It was low, almost a growl, and to anyone else in the world, it would have sounded dangerous. But Robbie knew better than that.

“No, I’m not.” He agreed easily. “I am your friend though.” He saw a flash of very real anger pass through James’ sharp eyes and then they softened.

“Yes. Okay.” He fished through his pocket and handed Lewis a set of keys.

“Good lad.” Robbie smiled at him. “And James…?”

James raised a single questioning eyebrow in his direction.

“Why don’t you have a shower, while I do that? You smell a bit…”

“Like an ashtray?” He supplied with a small smile.

“Yes.” He nodded. “Go on. Have a hot shower. You know where everything is. May even warm you up a bit.”

James turned and headed for the bathroom without another word. Robbie could clearly see the exhaustion in his retreating shoulders and decided that yes, he had done the right thing.

He drove over and let himself into James’ flat, and stood for a moment, looking around. He’d only been there a handful of times. Mostly when they saw each other after work, James was at his. Robbie entered, looking at the disarray in the sitting room, the long couch with the pillows askew, the box sitting on the coffee table, contents strewn about the glass top.

He gently leafed through what were obviously photographs. A young blond boy grinning gap-toothed into the camera. A slightly older boy, standing next to a much younger looking Philip Hathaway, looking solemn and far too old to be the child that he was. What a difference in just these two pictures. This must have been just after Philip started at Crevecoeur. Where was Nell? School maybe? She was a bit older than James after all. And James never mentioned her being there with him. Maybe she was sent to school? Robbie picked up the photograph and looked at it more closely. He remembered the case when they revisited the hall James had grown up in. His stomach clenched when he remembered the outcome. Had James been…? _No_. It wasn’t possible. Robbie wouldn’t let himself finish that train of thought.

He put down the picture and looked at another. James, younger, softer looking than he was now standing with his father, who was beaming with pride as his son graduated Cambridge. The slightly wary look in James’ eyes, all too familiar to him. Another. Nell with her father at her wedding. She looked radiantly happy. He could make James standing in the background, drink in hand and smile on his face. He put it down and looked at each picture for a moment before remembering that he was here to get clothes.

He went into James’ bedroom and switched on the overhead light. There was none of that untidy disarray that was in the sitting room. This room was spacious and minimally decorated but neat. With a low bed, dresser and chair sitting near the bed making up all the furniture. His guitar sat in the corner on a stand and there were a few framed posters on the walls. Various bands he didn’t recognize. Lewis opened the closet and pulled out a suitcase and put it on the bed. He began putting in various jeans, t-shirts, over shirts along with socks and pants he found in the appropriate top left drawer of the dresser. (Eyes averted away from the unopened box of condoms) He put in a few hoodies and pyjamas. This was definitely enough clothes to last a week or so. He wasn’t about to leave him alone. Not now. The thought crossed his mind, and he mentally recoiled from it, his stomach dropping. No. He wouldn’t leave James alone.

He also found and put in his phone charger, and a few well-thumbed paperbacks he saw in the sitting room. He shut it and brought it out to the car before coming back in and retrieving his toiletry bag he found in the loo, along with his shampoo and hair product. Then he took James’ beloved guitar and shut it up in its case before leaving the flat again and locking it after him.

When he returned home, he went with the case and set it down on the bed in the guestroom. The shower was still running. He took out a pair of pants, clean pyjamas and socks. He took the little bundle down the hall, and knocked on the bathroom door. “James?” He opened the door and went in. “I brought you something to change into.”

“Thank you.” Came the low, pained reply along with the steam billowing from behind the curtain.

Lewis left the room and went back into the sitting room. He looked at the lone bottle of wine on the worktop in the small kitchen, but thought better of it. It was getting on four in the morning now, and he finally felt that time catch up to him. He sat down on the sofa to wait.

He was very nearly asleep when he heard the water stop running and a moment later, he heard the door open. Then the guest room door open and close. Then approaching footsteps, then James was in the room.

“Bit more clothes than I need for the night.” He said with a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Figured you might stay a bit.” Lewis said easily from the sofa.

“I have a perfectly good flat.” James began, but Robbie held a hand up. “Look James. It’s four am, and I’m tired. You’re staying and that’s final. Do I make myself understood?”

“Perfectly.” James’ smile grew, looking a bit more like his real one. And Lewis could see the very tiny frisson of relief running through him, as a very tiny amount of tension left his shoulders.

“Good. Now, it’s late.” Robbie stood up. “Bed for me, I think.” He led the way down the hall, while James shut off the kitchen light. He stood outside the door to the guestroom that was situated just two doors away from the master bedroom and dithered for a moment over the entryway.

“I…I…” He looked at a loss for words.

“No thanks needed. Go to bed. We’ll talk more later.” Robbie gestured towards the door. “Goodnight, James.”

James nodded once and went into the bedroom without another word and shut the door.

Sleep didn’t come easily for Robbie. About thirty minutes after he had laid down, he heard the door down the hall open, gentle footsteps through the house and then the open and shut of the front door. Then through the open bedroom window, he could hear footsteps around the back and then the gentle _snick_ of a lighter.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning found them both rising late. Save for a quick text Lewis sent to Moody around six am before finally falling back into a fitful sleep. James was of course to have the next two weeks off, with his condolences.

Robbie shuffled into the kitchen around ten thirty, to find James sitting fully dressed on the sofa, head back and arm thrown over his eyes, he started when he heard him coming and looked over at him, blinking his wide, blue eyes. “Good morning. I’ve made coffee. I also went out and got some pastries from the bakery. They’re on the table.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Robbie half admonished before flicking open the box and picking out a jam filled pastry and sitting down with a cup of coffee.

“I know. But I was up and well…” James gestured around himself and stood up to join him in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee before sitting down, taking a pastry from the box with long, nervous fingers and set it on a napkin.

“You didn’t have to get these.” Robbie said again around a jammy mouthful. “But thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He picked at the confectionery, rather than ate, but it occupied a few moment’s attention.

“So when’s the funeral?” Robbie asked carefully, after a few minutes of silence.

“I don’t know. I need to call Nell and help her arrange everything.” He looked at the clock. “I take it you called Moody? He’d be breathing down my neck if I didn’t show up at half ten on any other day.”

“Yep.” Lewis took another big bite. “You’re not to set foot at work for another two weeks.”

“Right.” He paused. “Thank you.” He added stiffly.

“Welcome.” They sat in companionable silence for a while, draining their coffees, but James eventually stood.

“I need to go to dads. Surely Nell’s already there.”

“All right.” Lewis stood up.

“Shall I…?” “No, no. You don’t need to come.” James’ voice was firm. “But I’ll pick up wine on the way back?” He asked, and Robbie detected a somewhat hopeful note in his voice. A hot meal and a glass of wine, Lewis interpreted. He just wanted that small, simple thing. It was nearly enough to cleave his heart in two. Instead he merely cleared his throat.

“Right you are. Red, please.”

James smiled, went into the sitting room and took out his mobile, calling Nell. Robbie could hear snatches of James’ end of the conversation. Mostly him telling Nell that’d he be over soon. Yes, twenty minutes. Twenty…yes. Twenty. Okay. Yes. Goodbye. Robbie then heard him dial a cab company. He was about to insist that he at least give James a ride back to his flat to get his car, but thought better of it. If James wanted a little space, he’d give it to him.

Robbie had a lowkey morning, not needed at work unless asked for. That was the joy of being semi-retired after all. Eventually, he did ring Laura to tell her what had happened. No matter what had happened between them, he knew that she really cared about James, and would want to know. He rang off, assuring her he would pass on her condolences, and regrets that she wouldn’t be able to make the funeral. Aside from the potential awkwardness, She really _was_ terribly busy with her family out there at the moment, and he didn’t blame her in the slightest.

After hanging up, he dressed and did a rather large grocery shop, and around six, the doorbell rang to reveal Lizzie holding a rather large cottage pie.

“I told Tony what happened. He had the day off, so he made this.”

“And you brought it here?” He asked wryly but taking the warm dish from her. He didn’t bother asking either how she knew what had happened to James’ father, or what had happened between him and Laura. Likely, Moody had told her about Phillip Hathaway’s death, and she probably called Laura who had told her where to find him. They had gotten on really well when they had her over for dinner a few times.

“Well, yeah?” She raised a slightly sardonic eyebrow. “Where else would he have gone?”

“Do you want to come in?” Robbie asked with a smile.

“I have to dash back, actually. I just wanted to bring this by. Is James here?”

“No, he’s arranging things with his sister. He’ll be back later. I’ll tell him you were asking about him though.”

“Yeah. Pass on my condolences?”

“Of course. I’ll have you and Tony over for dinner soon too. Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled and waved before she turned on her heel and left, walking briskly to her car.

The doorbell rang at half eight and Lewis rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “It’s open!” He called from where he was seated on the sofa. “James, you idiot. You can just open the door you know.” Robbie stood and took one of the two bags with a bottle of wine in it that James was holding. He could see out of the window that James had brought his car, and parked it in the drive next to his own.

“Will remember for next time.” James came in and brought the wine into the kitchen. He looked over at the dish sitting on the stovetop. “Cottage pie?” he asked, turning to meet Robbie's eyes. A very strange sheen came to his eyes and he sniffed once before turning away.

“Yes.” Robbie came into the kitchen. “Lizzie brought it.” He paused a beat. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah…” he waved his hand, but didn’t turn back to meet his eyes. His voice wobbled a little. “It’s…was…it was uh…it was my dad’s favourite.”

“Oh.” Robbie came up behind him, hovering ever so slightly. “I can put it in the fridge if you want. We can get a takeaway. Whatever you want.”

“No. No, don’t be silly.” He coughed and turned back to look at him. His eyes were normal again and his voice was steady. “It’s fine. It was very nice of Maddox to bring this over.” He, like Robbie, didn’t question how she knew where he’d be.

“Okay. Didn’t know when you’d be back, so I’ll heat it up now. It’ll be ready in about twenty minutes.” He took the dish and placed it into the preheated oven and went to the fridge. “James, can you get the wine glasses and pour the wine? You know where to find everything.”

He turned, evidently grateful for being given something to do. He uncorked a bottle of good red and poured out two generous glasses. He and Robbie then quickly set the table, James folding the napkins into little triangles which he found oddly endearing. Robbie set out the salad he had made to go with and when the cottage pie was hot, set it out on the stove top with a serving utensil.

When they sat down at the table and were in the business of eating, James said almost too casually. “It’s on Thursday.”

“Okay.” Robbie took a sip of wine, understanding at once. “Do you want me to tell Lizzie?”

“Why?” James asked, genuinely confused.

“She and Tony will probably want to pay their respects.”

“They didn’t know him.”

“No, but they know _you_.”

James took a small bite of salad. “Sure. Okay.” The meal lapsed into silence again. Robbie once again noticed that James didn’t eat much other than a few small bites here and there. He knew from experience that grief often killed the appetite, if not thirst, he added to himself as he watched James pour himself another glass. He didn’t say anything at all. Not when he himself had crawled inside a bottle for a year after Val was killed. Obviously, he wouldn’t let any such thing happen to James. But right now, if the lad wanted a drink, he’d let him have a drink.

“What did you do today?” He eventually asked.

“Arranged the funeral, talked to the vicar and all that, Nell called people to tell them, while I arranged for the flowers.” He cleared his throat. “Tomorrow, we have to meet with the people to arrange for his…his…” Robbie saw James’ throat working and he swallowed some wine. “the uh. Headstone.”

“Ahh.” Robbie commented.

“I also have to meet with the undertaker. Bring him a suit to be buried in.” James’ hands moved spasmodically, and he clenched his fist for a beat. It was obviously killing him to talk about any of this. He let the conversation drop.

After a silent meal, he lost a brief squabble about leaving the washing up for tomorrow, and James did the dishes while he poured them another glass of wine and turned on the telly. He found a rerun of QI and moved the coffee table closer, so he could put his feet on it. After a few minutes, James came into the room and sat down on the sofa next to him. He practically laid down, head on the cushion, (That position would kill his own neck, but as long as James was comfortable.) his long legs sprawled out on the table in front of them. He drained his wine quickly and moved to put the glass on the table but didn’t get up for another. Robbie reckoned he was too tired. He didn’t pour them another either.

The programme ended and another one started, and as they watched, Robbie felt, rather than saw, James gradually relax next to him. He began answering questions before the contestants, who were too busy mucking about to actually answer the difficult questions anyway.

“Oi. Clever cogs. Give us a chance.” Robbie chided playfully and James had grinned at him. When that episode ended, it was James who stood up.

“I’m going to go outside for a cigarette, then I’m going to bed.” There was a slight questioning pause at the end of that sentence that Robbie was only too happy to dispel.

“Course. Long day and that.” He smiled. “Go on.” He usually would take the opportunity to go on about James’ smoking, but like the drinking, he wasn’t going to mention it. The boy’s father just died. If he wanted a cigarette, he’d have a cigarette.

James went outside, but was back quite soon. “I’ll be gone rather early tomorrow.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t have anything on.” Robbie said from the couch. He wasn’t exactly tired yet, so he thought he’d stay up a while. “Oh. Wait.” He stood and went to a drawer in the kitchen. He took out a key and handed it to him, who took it with a flabbergasted look on his face. “Here. Just in case I’m out when you get back.”

James’ eyebrows went up. “I…I mean I could always just..go home. You don’t have to give me a key.”

“Nah. You take it.” Robbie smiled at him. It was honestly just like James to refuse. “Take it in case I lock meself out. I’m not as young as I once was, you know.” It was bait, and James took it.

“Well…okay. Yeah. I guess it’s safer than hiding it in a flowerpot.”

“Exactly.” Robbie sat back down. James stood a moment, looking momentarily lost for words.

“I. Well. Okay. Goodnight.”

“’night.” He turned back to the telly, letting James know without words that it was safe to leave now.

Robbie felt a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking. “Robbie..” a voice whispered. “Robbie…” he sat up, his neck protesting.

“Oh.” He blinked stupidly and looked around. “James. What…” he yawned and stretched. “What time is it?”

“Gone three am. You fell asleep out here.”

“Oh.” He felt around rather than looked for the remote, but James found it first and shut the television off.

“Thanks.” He stood up, putting his hands on the small of his back and stretched.

“Sleeping on a sofa isn’t ideal.” He said ruefully.

“After all that time we spent putting in your mattress and disposing of your old one, it seems a waste not to use it.” He smiled, and Robbie was gratified to see that James look at least like he had slept a little.

“All right all right.” He tapped his closed fist on James’ shoulder. “Bed, I think.” He followed James towards the bedrooms and went into his.

“Night.” He said before closing his door.

“Goodnight, Robbie.” James replied softly and Robbie could hear him close the door to the guestroom.

The day broke, fine and warm. Robbie rose early to find James already gone. The funeral was tomorrow after all, lots to do. He spent the morning cleaning. He took out his good funeral suit and hung it on his bedroom door. He did his laundry and attempted to cook dinner. Then he scrapped dinner and ordered pizza. James entered without knocking this time around six thirty. He was holding a garment bag in one hand. His nose delicately wrinkled for a moment when he smelled the charred roast in the rubbish bin and then his eyes saw the familiar flat, white and brown box on the worktop.

“I see you’ve tried experimenting again.” He went through to the guestroom and hung his suit up on the door as Robbie had done.

“Oi.” Robbie looked at him, mock hurt. “I’ll have you know it was coming along just fine” James merely rolled his eyes and went to fetch plates.

Over dinner, Robbie asked “What time is the funeral?”

“Eleven is when people will start arriving. Funeral's at eleven thirty.” He shook his head. “But you don’t need..”

He held up a hand. “Don’t even start, lad. Of course I’m coming.”

James flushed a little and he hid it by taking a large sip of his wine. “There’s a reception at Nell’s house afterwards.” He paused, looked down at this plate and then back up. “I would…I…would appreciate….” He cleared his throat.

“I’ll be there.” Robbie correctly guessed, and James nodded once.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah. No problem.” They ate in silence, James eating a whole slice and then a little of a second. After a quarter of an hour, James spoke again.

“Nell’s asked me to give the eulogy.”

“Are you going to?”

“Suppose I have to.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know what I’m going to say.”

Robbie thought for a long moment. “Just say the truth.”

“That he had dementia and didn’t remember me in the end?” James’ voice took on a bitter edge. "That we barely spoke for years, and when we finally did, it was too late?"

Lewis couldn’t help but put a hand on his arm. “That he loved you. He loved to fish. He read the books you set for him. That stuff…That stuff’s important. The little things. You just talk about that. Remember it, and the right words will come to you.”

James was looking down, concentrating very hard on the plate on the table in front of him, and Robbie could see he was full to the eyes, so he didn’t say anything else, just left his hand on his forearm, comforting him as best he knew how.

“Thank you, Robbie.” His voice was low. He stood and turned away, but not before he caught a glimpse of James’ crumpled face. “I’m going to have a cigarette and then start work on that.” He left without another word, and Robbie let him go.

He was outside for almost a full hour, but Robbie left him alone. He finished eating, cleared the table and did the washing up. James came inside and went into the guestroom without saying anything, and again, Robbie let him go. He could hear the distinct sound of pacing from behind the closed door. He went into the living room and put on the telly, not really watching it though. Around ten o’clock he knocked on the guestroom door.

“I’m going to bed, kay?”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.” Came James’ slightly muffled reply. Robbie was slightly cheered to hear that his voice sounded clear and steady.

Sleep was once again elusive for Robert Lewis. He couldn’t hear anything from down the hall, but he just knew James would be up. Some unthinkable part of him wanted to march down that short hallway, yank the door open and pull the boy into his arms. But that was utter madness. How embarrassing for both of them. That’s not what they did.

They didn’t talk about… _things_. They bickered. Bantered. Teased. But never really said much else. The two men had gravitated towards one another, like shipwrecked furniture in the wake of disaster upon the sea. Robbie had been completely lost, Val’s absence feeling more like a presence, filling up every space as noticeable as a black hole. James for his part had been rootless, both loss and lost coming off him like waves. And they had slotted together as easily as a key in a lock. From nearly the moment they met, they had gotten along, save for a few squabbles. And those rows, those squabbles, if Robbie had really thought about it, felt as hurtful and terrible as a fight with a spouse. The Garden case sprang to mind. It wasn’t that James lied; it was that James had lied _to him_. It wasn’t that James had concealed things. It was that James had concealed things _from him_.

Robbie knew he had every right to be hurt when that happened. After all, you had to be able to trust your partner. If a detective couldn’t trust his partner, then you could be killed. But it was  _different._ It had felt dangerously personal at the time. But they had made up, and life had gone on. James had proved time and time again that he was trustworthy, and that he valued his partnership. His friendship. They began to spend more time together after work. A drink in the pub here, a dinner there…and soon, before Robbie could even think, he considered James to be not only his partner at work, but his friend. And then not only his friend, but his _best_ friend.

He punched the pillow into a more comfortable shape, and tried to remember what it was like to lose his own father. It had been decades since that awful day, but he remembered it clearly. He knew that the situation was different. James hadn’t been especially close to his family, and he could guess that the boy felt regret about that, even if what he had said at dinner hadn't made it obvious. He had tried hard in the end though. He had taken them fishing, and while Philip hadn’t known James then, Robbie knew that James valued the little time he had. Robbie looked at the ceiling as he heard the door open and close. Then the all too familiar sound of the lighter, and he knew that he would have to be there for him tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

The funeral was awful. Well, not awful. It was actually quite nice as far as funerals go. It was just awful for Robbie who knew how awful it was going to be for James.

He pulled into the carpark at the church at twenty to eleven and saw James’ car next to a black Mazda that he was pretty certain must belong to Nell. He saw the tall, blond figure pacing near the door, cigarette in hand. He tossed it aside when he saw him coming.

“James.” Robbie came up to him, clapping him on the shoulder. He then bent down, picked up the fag end and handed it to him.

James took it with a rueful smile and stubbed it out with his shoe before throwing it into the bin. “Good of you to come.”

“’Course.” A blonde woman, tall and pretty in a black dress came over, sensible heels clicking as she walked.

“Mr. Lewis, I assume?”

“Nell.” Robbie shook her hand. “Call me Robbie. I’m so sorry about your dad.”

“Thank you.” She looked over at James. “Everything’s set.”

He nodded at her. “Right. I’ll be in a minute.” She turned and went back inside.

They stood in silence for a few minutes before James took a huge breath and let it out through his nose. “Right.” He said before turning on his heel and walking inside. Lewis followed, and took his seat in the back.

James did wonderfully, greeting all the mourners, shaking their hands and making eye contact. The train of people seemed endless. Apparently, James’ father had been well liked indeed. Robbie kept his eyes on him, and occasionally, their eyes would meet, and he would give James a tiny nod. He was here, it was okay. It was going to be okay. Nell stood at his side, as practical and straightforward as ever. Plenty of hugs and kisses were exchanged as the seats around Robbie began to fill. True to form, Lizzie Maddox and Tony came. They both hugged a slightly surprised looking James, and then shook Nell’s hand before joining Robbie in the back.

“A big turnout.” Lizzie commented in sotto voce to Robbie.

“Looks like Philip Hathaway had a lot of friends.”

“How’s he holding up?”

For a moment, Robbie wasn’t sure how to answer. James seemed to be doing as well as one could under the circumstances, but…he looked as tense as a piano wire, and he knew that he would probably snap at any time. “He’s coping.” He replied truthfully.

She and Tony both nodded understandingly. The church filled up, so much so there were people standing behind the last pew, at the very back. Eventually, James and Nell sat down in the front row, next to who could only be Nell’s husband; a tall good-looking man who immediately wrapped his arm around Nell's shoulders, and the service began.

He could see James’ shoulders throughout; the tension was palpable to someone who knew him so well. Robbie ached to reach out and touch him. To sit next to him, and be just…there, silent at his side.

Eventually, James stood to speak. He cleared his throat and looked at the large crowd throughout the church. He opened his mouth once. Then twice, and then cleared his throat again. A frisson of panic ran through James' shoulders, Lewis picked up his chin and met his searching, frightened gaze. He nodded. And with that, James took a deep breath and began to speak.

It was a good eulogy. A son fondly remembering his father. He talked about his great love of fishing. Of the outdoors. He inspired a few chuckles. Remembered a few unremembered acts of kindness. But Robbie could see plainly if no one else could, the despair in his posture. In his hands gripping the podium. In his eyes, looking down at the paper in front of him. In his voice. Well, he wasn’t the only one. Halfway through, Robbie felt a small pressure on his forearm, and he looked down to see Lizzie’s hand pressed into his jacket. He looked at her face. It was solemn and her dark eyes were shining. She knew how hard this was for him. That ache welled up in his chest again, until it was almost unbearable. Once or twice, James met his eyes, fixing him with that piercing blue gaze. Robbie kept his own look steady and supportive.

Finally, he thanked everyone and stepped down, and Robbie could see the relief plain in his posture as he took his seat next to his sister who let go of her husband long enough to wrap an arm around his shoulders and give him a squeeze. He patted her knee in answer.

They met again at the cemetery. Nell stood with her husband, next to James near the hole. The rest of the family stood near, and Robbie towards the back, standing next to Lizzie and Tony. Looking at them, he realized how alone James looked. Nell was weeping silently, her hand on her husband’s arm for support. James stood to the side of them, staring down as the vicar spoke and the basket was slowly lowered down. His back was ramrod straight and his eyes were fixed downwards.

The service ended shortly thereafter, and everyone began to part, heading for their various cars. The grave diggers moving a bit closer, but still standing respectfully distant. They were to go to Nell’s for sandwiches and drinks. He saw James lean in and say something to his sister, to which she nodded, and she and her husband nearly stumbled away, and finally, James was alone.

“We have to go back to work.” Lizzie whispered in Robbie’s ear, who nodded.

“I know James appreciates you both being here.” He hugged Lizzie and kissed her cheek and then shook Tony’s hand.

“You take care of him, sir.” Lizzie gave him a little smile before putting her arm through Tony’s. “He’s not gonna take care of himself.”

“Yes ma’am, I will.”

"I know." She replied.

"Or you'll have her to answer to." Tony grinned at him.

"Oh yes. I know." Robbie gave her a playful salute and they moved off towards their car.

Robbie quietly came up closer to James until he was standing just behind him. He could perceive the very fine trembling of James’ shoulders. “James.” He said softly and cleared his throat. “James. I’m really sorry about your dad.”

James nodded and wiped a shaking hand over his eyes. “Thank you, Robbie.” His voice was brittle, near breaking. “Are you going to go to Nell’s? Or are you…?” He was cut off by Robbie placing a gentle, almost caressing hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll stay right here, lad.” His voice was low, soothing.

And that was all it took. James turned around and looked into Lewis’ eyes and he saw the full brunt of his heartbreak, sadness, confusing and utter _loss_ in his blue, blue eyes. Robbie, without saying another word, slowly enveloped him in a hug. The last shred of James’ reserve fell away, and he broke down completely, sobbing into his shoulder.

“It’s all right.” Robbie murmured over and over, practically propping him up, hand rubbing circles into James' heaving back. He understood that he wasn’t just crying for the loss, but for the regret for all the time he let go by. For the words he left unspoken. Everything. “It’s all right. It’s okay.” He whispered into James’ ear. “You’re going to be okay. Shhh. Shhh now. It’s all right. You're going to be alright.”

They stood together for a long time, Finally, James stiffening in his arms was the hint to Robbie that it was time to let go now. “You okay?” He asked as James stepped away, leaving Robbie feeling slightly bereft.

He let out a slightly delirious laugh and fished a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his face. “Yeah. Yeah. Erm. Thank you.”

“Say no more about it." He gestured to his car. "Shall we?"

They walked back, Robbie realizing his car was the only one left. James must have told Nell to leave without him, and that he’d find his own way back. They got in and drove back to the church so James could collect his own car, a comfortable silence descending on them both.

The reception was subdued and when they walked in, Nell came over, her eyes searching her brother’s face for a long beat before she hugged him, whispering something in his ear. He smiled slightly and hugged her back, before shaking her husband’s hand.

Robbie stayed next to James the entire time, seeing exhaustion creep slowly in. He made sure he ate a sandwich, or at least picked at it and drank a glass of water. Nell sent them home eventually, with a plate of sandwiches to take along. Her own kitchen was full to nearly bursting with food that various friends and colleagues had prepared for her.

When they arrived back at Robbie’s, he put the food in the refrigerator and James went through immediately to the guestroom to change. They met back in the living room both wearing jogging bottoms and t-shirts, and nearly collapsed together onto the sofa. Robbie put on an old episode of Poirot and James stretched out companionably with a yawn next to him, legs on the table.

“Didn’t know you liked Poirot.”

Robbie merely shrugged. “Fun watching someone else do it sometimes.” He replied.

Fifteen minutes into the programme, Robbie felt a weight settle against him. He turned his head to see James had fallen asleep pressed into his side, head lolling to the right. This simply wouldn’t do. He shifted gently and let the lad’s head fall onto his left shoulder and immediately felt James relaxing more fully. Before he knew what he was doing, Robbie put an arm around James’ narrow shoulders. How thin the boy was. The reaction was immediate, a sigh escaped him and he could did what Robbie could only describe as snuggled in closer and fell into a deeper sleep.

There was only one thing for it. He kept his hand were it was, and let James rest against him. He felt himself falling asleep not too long later, but didn’t want to wake him. He was too magnificently comfortable. He felt himself being pulled under, powerless to stop it. Robbie always slept better with someone warm in his arms.

Birdsong was the thing that startled Robbie into waking. Sometime in the night, they had both evidently shifted so they were laying down along the length of the sofa, James’ long body pressed fully against his own. His nose in the crook of Robbie’s neck. The next thing he felt was a hot weight being pressed against his thigh.

His heart stopped momentarily. But he took a breath. James was a healthy young man. It didn’t mean anything. _Did he want it to?_ The thought crossed his mind as he remembered where they were, laying on his couch, arms and legs entwined.

No.

No.

Surely not.

_Maybe_.

That tiny thought in the back of his mind made him nearly gasp aloud. But he knew that now was not the time or place to think about any of this. They had buried his father yesterday, for Christ’s sake.

He gently began to extricate himself from the octopus like grip James had him in. _How long were his damned limbs?!_ And he felt James’ full body shudder against him, lips pressing against his throat in a caressing kiss.

His breath caught in his chest, as all the air seemed to leave the room at once. He froze, powerless as the kisses continued, James still clearly asleep. Eyes moving under closed lids.

This wasn’t…He began to shake James’ shoulder. “James. _James._ ”

“mmm?” came his sleep muddled reply.

“We fell asleep. C’mon man. We need to get up.” Robbie shook him again in earnest.

“But you taste so lovely.” James protested, sighed and kissed his throat again. The kisses were sweet and gentle as he moved his head across his neck. The movements were sleep slow, and Robbie knew that he was still dreaming. But that didn’t stop his cock giving an interested twitch as it began to take part in the proceedings.

“James!” Robbie nearly cried, desperation ringing in his voice. He took his shoulder and gave it a firm shake. Finally he felt James’ stiffen against him, freezing as his brain caught up with his body.

After a beat, James scrambled up to his feet. “I. Robbie. I’m so. Sorry.” His eyes were wide and absolutely terrified. He looked down at his own body, then over at Robbie’s his brain moving quickly, realizing the reaction he had caused.

“Don’t.” Robbie forced a smile, despite his cheeks heating. “It’s okay. Happens.” He stood up. “It’s all right. We fell asleep in front of the telly. Let’s just leave it at that, eh?”

James’ face was a brilliant shade of crimson, almost going purple with humiliation. “’kay.” He merely said, before turning and positively fleeing to the other room, slamming the door closed.

“Oh Robbie, Robbie, _Robbie_ ” He breathed, scrubbing his face. He looked over at the direction James had gone in, pretty sure he was hyperventilating in the other room. His erection hadn’t flagged in the slightest. He reached down and gingerly cupped the front of his jogging bottoms. His cock was nearly throbbing in his pants. _Right. There was only one thing he could do_. He turned around and went into his bedroom, closing the door after him. He removed his jogging bottoms and laid down on the bed.

He tried to think about Laura. The sex between them when they had it was spectacular. Especially at the beginning, when everything was new and exciting. But her face very quickly fled his mind, disappearing like smoke through a keyhole, and being replaced with James. James smiling. James laughing. James smoking, cheeks hallowed out with the inhale. James’ hands, long fingers picking at that pastry in front of him. He hadn’t realized how many little mannerisms he had stored away in his mind until now. Oh _fuck_. He gave himself over to it, hand moving faster and harder on his cock. Now he knew what James’ lips felt like on his skin…and god he was so close already. He bit into his other hand to contain the sounds just trying to burst out of him.

A soft moan sounded from down the hallway, making Robbie’s heart skip a beat as he realized _exactly_ what James was doing in the guestroom. _God._ _James was…he was…oh fuck._ And if he could hear it two rooms away, he must be  _loud. OH God!_  He pumped himself faster and harder, only cognizant of more. More. _More._ And with a sudden, bitten off cry, he came blindingly hard, spilling into his fist.

When he stopped shaking, he sat up and grabbed a tissue to clean himself up. He breathed deeply, laying his hands on his naked thighs, trying to slow his galloping thoughts. _Could’ve happened to anyone. Pressed against you that way? Would’ve happened to anyone. God…_

He eventually stood, put the bottoms back on and padded to the bathroom for a shower. When he came out, he felt a little calmer. The hot water had completed what the earth-shattering orgasm had begun. When he dressed and went into the kitchen, James was no where to be found, but he saw a note on the table.

_Robbie._

_Went to get milk._

_Back Soon._

_James_

He made a cup of tea, noting the full container of milk in the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table, picking at the crossword. His mind very quickly lost interest in the clues in front of him, and began circling in on itself.

What happened this morning was no big deal. James was dreaming of someone or another and just…reacted. He was a healthy, young man with a healthy, young man’s urges. It meant nothing. Robbie’s body had reacted like anyone’s would have. It was fine. They were fine. A bit embarrassed, but they didn’t ever have to mention it.

_But didn’t they?_ A tiny voice sounded in the back of his brain. _How do you feel?_

Robbie sat, listening to the clock on the wall ticking with his cup of tea in hand. How did he feel? He felt…well… _bloody fantastic_ to be honest. That was the best orgasm he had had in a long time. He sipped his tea. He felt…confused? Yes. Confused was a good term.

_But how do you feel about James?_ That tiny voice asked.

“I…like him. He’s a good man. A good mate. My best friend.” Robbie said aloud to the empty kitchen.

The rest of his thoughts were interrupted as the door opened and closed, and James walked in, milk in hand. He went past him and opened the fridge to put it inside.

“Look. James.” Robbie said as James opened his mouth. “We don’t have to talk about what happened this morning. It’s all fine. You were having a dream about some woman or another, and your body just…reacted. Mine…reacted too. Got its signals crossed as it were. And now it’s over and we don’t have to mention it again.”

James’ face was red again. He nodded. Then he looked momentarily confused before his brow smoothed, and something like relief came over him.

“Yes?” Robbie asked.

“No. Nothing.” James replied with a forced airiness. “You’re right. It’s stupid, and we don’t have to mention it again.”

“Good.” Robbie gestured behind him to the worktop. “Kettle’s just boiled.” That seemed to signify the conversation was over. James got down a mug and teabag and poured himself a cup.

They spent the morning reading the newspaper together. The weather had turned in the night, and it was raining pretty hard. Eventually, James got up to read in the living room, while Robbie put on a film. They didn’t speak much. They eventually had a small dinner of sandwiches from the day before and then James had played his guitar to an appreciative Robbie. They mentioned neither the funeral, or the incident of the morning, and around ten o’clock, James excused himself to go to bed.

“I think I’ll be off home tomorrow.” James said in a would-be casual voice as they parted ways for their respective bedrooms.

“Oh.” Robbie tried not to sound too disappointed. He had enjoyed having him there. “Alright then.” He had already been getting used to having the company. They wished each other a goodnight and closed the doors.

Robbie lay awake that night, the fact that he had slept better on an old sofa with James than in a comfortable bed without James wasn’t lost on him.

It was after midnight when he gave sleep up as a bad job and got up, making his way to the kitchen. James was seated at the table, cup of tea in front of him.

“Kettle’s just boiled.” He said in way of greeting, quoting him from earlier.

“Ta.” He made a cup and sat down with him. “Can’t sleep?”

“Not really.” James sipped his tea delicately. “You?”

“Nah.” Robbie gestured. “It’s been an odd week. Getting used to the time zones and all.”

“I never did ask you…” James began but stopped himself.

“About Laura you mean?”

“Yeah. What…happened?”

“Just grew apart.” He sighed and took a sip of tea. “Wanted different things. I’m not cut out for full retirement. I think she never truly forgave me for not telling her I started working again…I missed home…and…” he stopped talking when the word “you” was about to leave his lips. Instead, he gestured around the flat. “It just got more and more apparent that we just weren’t…”

“I understand.” James replied sympathetically.

“What about you?” Robbie asked. “You take me up on that advice? Any partners? Dates even?” He amended at the look on his face.

“You know me.” He answered dryly. “Married to the work.”

“Gets lonely though.”

“It suits me.”

“The work? Or the loneliness?”

“Both.” James replied, more honestly than he was expecting.

They both let that hang between them for a long beat, neither of them quite able to say anything else. Robbie drained his cup and stood. “Maybe I’ll try and get to bed after all.”

“Yeah. Okay.” James finished his own cup. Once again, they parted ways before going to bed. But this time, Lewis felt the weight of the other man’s gaze on him as he closed the door.

He didn’t sleep that night.

The next morning, James and all his things were gone.


End file.
